


Take Me Home

by trinasong



Category: Falsettos - Lapine/Finn
Genre: F/M, Implied sexual humour, Modern AU, Mutual Pining, New Year's Eve, Not Canon Compliant, Pining, Songfic, based on a hc, but both very sweet, but he loves trina, i love you cher, i think, mendel can’t dance, non-canon, theyre both tipsy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-20
Updated: 2019-01-20
Packaged: 2019-10-12 17:23:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17471765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trinasong/pseuds/trinasong
Summary: wrapped in your arms tonightjust makin' lovemusic and candlelightstars up above—in which trina and mendel attend a mutual friend’s nye party, and share a dance. mutual pining is intense. partially inspired by that gucci ad. you know the one.





	Take Me Home

**Author's Note:**

> it’s based on what i posted on my tumblr (brandonjblock). i love cher. and i love these babes

 

_Take me home, take me home_

_Want to feel you close to me_  
_Take me home, take me home_  
_With you is where I want to be_

_—_

11:24 pm. December 31st.

His eyes were fixed on her as they had been for...well, for the entirety of the evening. He planned to keep it that way for as long as he could.

Of course, his attention flickered occasionally, but she was much more diverting than an obnoxious laugh from an almost-stranger nearby.

His eyes flickered over her as she laughed with someone he recognised from passing them earlier in the night. He thought she had the most incredible smile. Was it perfect? No. Maybe it was a little wonky, and maybe her nose wrinkled when she laughed, but that was nothing to him. It wouldn’t ever be anything to him other than _wonderful_.

 He sipped his drink — what was he drinking? He didn’t remember. Nothing he’d drank before. Despite this fact, he wasn’t drunk. He was tipsy, he supposed. He wasn’t big on drink. 

Maybe she was. She seemed drunk. He hadn’t seen her so relaxed before. Maybe she hadn’t been so relaxed in all thirty eight years of her life. Maybe he hadn’t been so head over heels in all thirty seven of his.

 She wasn’t uptight, but she didn’t let herself relax. Or so he assumed. 

 He turned his attention back to her. The dress she was wearing. Simple, and pretty, and flattering, and everything he wanted. Lilac; her favourite colour. A gold necklace. She didn’t seem to take it off.

At that, she glanced back at him, and he offered her a wobbly smile. Perhaps she wasn’t looking at him, as her shining eyes seemed to drift from him.

He didn’t recognise the song that had just started up, but he noticed how she tapped her heel on the ground to the beat of it as she spoke to the almost-stranger.

It was a nice event; a hall complete with golden decoration, streamers, champagne glasses, dusky lights and music that wasn’t harsh to hear. She seemed to fit in.

He was addressing her (internally) as if they were complete strangers. No, they weren’t. In fact, they were close. Not close enough to make it to the top of her conversational to-do list, but close would do. Trina.

  _“I’d_   _do_ _her_ ” he thought to himself with a snort. Mendel definitely had the hots for her, in more ways than one. It was definitely hard. Yeah, _hard_.

11:36 pm. December 31st.

Mendel stood, smoothing out his ill-patterned shirt and making his way across the hall to grab another drink. He wasn’t sure how many he’d had, but hey. It was New Year’s Eve.

He glanced down at his glass of champagne, and over at Trina, who was now swaying to the music and laughing louder than before.

She glanced back at him again, and his heart fell to his stomach. He smiled at her; a lopsided, tipsy smile.

Mendel emptied his champagne flute, hoping it would go to his head. He needed some blurred courage tonight. 

He was wondering why he hadn’t yet spoken to Trina, as usually he would. They passed each other in their workplace frequently, and he knew all too much about her. He knew her favourite coffee, he knew that she wasn’t in contact with her sister, he knew she was allergic to a certain fabric softener. 

That didn’t make a difference tonight, as he couldn’t bring himself to speak to her. The room was starting to look a little hazy, and the rosy and golden lights distorted things a little more. 

A little more time.

11:52 pm. December 31st. 

A few more drinks. He didn’t like drinking much, but it brought his eyes away from the way she looked in the flattering lilac dress. Her _legs_. What he wouldn’t do to have—no, nevermind. That’ll be the champagne speaking.

Mendel was hit with a wave of sudden ecstasy. The lights, and the music, and the drink. It was one of those moments in which you can’t really believe that you’re living. Or that your life is the way it is. He looked down at his feet, laughing to himself.

Maybe this was because he hadn’t spoken to anyone throughout the night, other than the few mumbles of greeting. Well, he decided to tip his hat to the world; it was NYE.

11:56 pm. December 31st.

Mendel wondered if he could leave. Maybe move away from all of this, and count this down himself. He turned to leave with the spontaneous urge to feel the cold as he counted down.

A hand on his shoulder.

He turned around, stumbling slightly.

Trina.

A song started up; a song that he recognised vaguely. Cher, was it? Trina liked Cher. 

“Dance with me?” She asked over the beat of the song, her skin tinted a champagne colour from the lights. Her eyes were shining, and he was in love.

Mendel hadn’t even comprehended the question. He stared at her, a half-amused expression on his face.

”I—yeah,” he said, cheeks pink from the drink and her proposal. 

She smiled (the smile he loved, with her nose wrinkling as she did so), and she lazily draped he arms over his shoulders before walking them to the centre of the room.

Mendel was in a daze, and he tuned out anything that wasn’t the music or Trina. 

_“Wrapped in your arms tonight_  
_Just makin' love_  
_Music and candlelight_  
_Stars up above”_

She pressed closer to him. 11:58 pm. December 31st.

He hadn’t a clue what had brought this on, but he’d be damned if he cared. He gingerly hooked an arm around her waist as she swayed her lithe hips to the music. 

Mendel noticed that she was singing along. She was drunk, and she slurred her words, but he’d listen to it for the rest of his life if he was given half a chance.

Trina toyed with the curls on the back of his head, eyes closing briefly. She looked so comfortable, and so _divine._ The night-long glances and smiles really were making sense.

11:59 pm. December 31st.

She leaned her head on his shoulder with a giddy smile, stumbling as she tried to move to the music. He held her up. She’d taken her shoes off, and she was so much smaller than when she wore them. Smaller in general. More mild, more available, more warmth. 

A countdown from thirty. Thirty seconds of holding her, and swaying with her. She looked up at him with a smile. A lazy, half-lidded smile. The smile he wanted to see for the rest of his days. Maybe that’s what she’d look like when she— _no._

_Ten._

She combed her fingers through his hair, eyes glazed over with joy.

_Nine._

There they were; hurtling towards 40 and never saying boo as they danced like it was young love.

_Eight._

He tripped over his own feet, laughing quietly.

 _Seven_.

The floor grew more crowded, and the lights grew brighter. It brought out her cheekbones.

 _Six_. 

A light and carefree laugh for someone who seemed so tense. All heels and neatly pinned hair.

 _Five_.

She pressed closer to him, and he felt her soft breathing against his parted lips. Oh, she was radiant.

 _Four_. 

She sang a little louder, he fell more in love. If that was possible, at least.

 _Three_.

Lucky number. He pulled her closer, their chests brushing.

 _Two_.

She smiled at him. Brighter than he’d seen it, and more meaningful than he thought. 

 _One_.

She clumsily grabbed his face, pulling him into a kiss. His legs felt weak, and he stumbled. He kissed back. He _really_  kissed back. He stroked her hair, and rubbed her waist. Any contact. He stumbled further, both of them briefly pulling away with a surprised gasp before hitting the floor in a tangle.

She only laughed, kissing him again. She tasted of champagne, and whatever else she’d been drinking. Vanilla. 

They were tangled up on the floor at a New Years Eve party, and the kiss was messy, but he’d be lying if he said it didn’t make him anything less than alive.

  _I'm in heaven,_ _seems like heaven_ _  
So much in heaven_

She broke apart from him, staring him in the eyes as if she was sober. “Happy New Year,” Trina slurred, kissing him hard again.

Mendel finally believed in the concept of heaven on Earth.

“Take me home?” She asked.

And a Happy New Year, indeed.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for whatever this is. i had an urge to write, and i’m pretty sure you read it, so thank you. i don’t want to sound pretentious. any feedback would be mucho appreciated


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